Someday it may be rash to say spring is approaching.
We go about our mindless business unaware that
we really must choose sides, lest the wrong agenda
take hold and the whole spring of it collapse, like a
footprint in a dune. It may just take your breath away,
leaving you unable to complain to the proper authorities.
When the rest of the seasons disappear, one by one,
the year may cease to be relevant.
Those on the islands will say,
“Not a very provident lot, eh what?”
If only we had looked out for one another;
if only we had known how much it could matter.
It’s unfortunate the islands are full,
but there is only so much breath to go around.
You want to know if it’s over yet.
Will these terrible incidents never end?
At least this obstacle may be the last one.
After reading “Alcove” by John Ashbery